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“I want some good in-flight food,” she warned me, and I grinned.
“Deal.”
22
Haley
By the time Friday rolled around, I was a total and complete wreck.
It was a combination of many, many factors that had turned my week so sour. First of all, it had been much more difficult than expected to say goodbye to Chase Monday morning. Especially after the powerful, emotional sex we’d had together Sunday evening. All that night we had slept curled up close to each other, totally naked under the heavy sheets while the fire crackled pleasantly in the background. When I had awoken Monday morning to an empty bed, and turned to see Chase hurriedly getting dressed and packing for his flight, my heart sank. He didn’t let me even get out of bed, telling me to stay warm and comfy while he headed out. With one last tender kiss, he had left me tangled up in the sheets alone, wondering how in the world I was going to face an entire week without my new husband.
My fake husband, I reminded myself for the zillionth time.
Over the course of the week, we had been in constant touch. Chase called me before work to say good morning every day and he called every evening to talk about our day and say goodnight. Throughout the day, we sent each other countless text messages and photos. I sent him pictures of the plans drawn up for renovations around the Peppertree, designs for the interior suites and numbers-crunching for the ski lift and the touch-ups to the landscaping. We collaborated on research for a Michelin chef who would be willing, for the right paycheck, to come in and painstakingly train each of my admittedly not-so-great kitchen employees. And in between the business-related messages, we joked around and flirted, just like old times.
It was nice, having someone to check in on me, who actually seemed to give a damn about the Peppertree, about my day. Of course, my mother and Beverly cared about me, but they had their own lives to worry about. Beverly was hard at work in medical school, and my mother did everything in her power to avoiding visiting or even discussing the resort. I understood why: the painful memories were still too much. But having Chase to talk to reminded me of just how lonely I was before.
And then, of course, when he called me to break the news that his mother wanted us to have a “real” wedding for friends and family… well, that was a kick to the gut. I had not planned on having to take my Genuine Newlywed act all the way to the main stage. But I suppose it had been foolish of me to assume we could just quietly pass the whole year without some drama. And naturally, my mother wanted in on the event, too. And Beverly. And my mother’s friends and family, none of whom I had even spent any time with in years.
As I got in the taxi to drive to the airport with my luggage, I felt sick to my stomach. I could not imagine how awkward and painful this was going to be. Having to pretend our marriage was genuine and not just a gigantic ruse, a business deal. This was going to take all my wits, all my restraint. At the airport, I almost missed my flight. I walked aboard as they were making the final calls, and when I settled into my first class seat-- paid for by Chase-- I was shaking, and not from the cold.
To my relief, it was a relatively smooth flight. The inclement weather hardly affected the jet, and I spent the three-hour flight rehearsing ways to explain how Chase and I met, how we decided to get married on a whim, how happy we were together. At least the last part wasn’t going to be one giant lie. I was happy with Chase, if a little nervous about the future. At the present moment, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. It was almost as if no time had passed between our college days and today. He was still the same brilliant, witty, devilishly handsome man he was then, only now he was more mature and even sexier. I wondered how much I had changed. I hoped it was a good change. I made a mental note to ask Chase when I got the chance.
When I landed at the O’Hare airport, I turned my phone back on to receive a barrage of voicemails and text messages from everyone. Well-wishers, relatives and friends telling me they couldn’t wait to meet my new husband. And of course, a text message from Chase informing me that he had sent a car to pick me up and take me to his penthouse.
That was the word he used. Penthouse.
I got off the plane and collected my luggage, then walked outside to meet the car he had arranged to pick me up. Chicago was windy, of course, and cooler than I had expected, but still not too bad considering that I was used to the Colorado cold. I fastened my scarf more tightly around my neck and put on my faux-leather gloves, standing on the pavement and looking around for a black sedan. Naturally, there were many of those, and I had trouble determining which one was mine. Finally, a man got out and called to me by name, and I got into the back seat gladly.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Haley. My name is Jeremy. I’m Chase’s driver,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand for me to shake. I smiled and shook his hand.
“Great to meet you, too,” I said warmly. “So, how far is the drive?”
“Oh, not far. Not far. Mr. Hawthorne lives in River North, about a twenty-minute drive, providing that traffic isn’t too wild. Just sit back and relax. I’m sure you must be exhausted after your flight,” he told me, pulling the car out onto the highway. I almost snorted. Actually, it had been years since I last flew first-class, so my flight had been pretty pleasant, but I didn’t tell him that. I had a feeling most of the snobby people Jeremy worked for would consider first-class not good enough, still find something to complain about. I, however, had found it pretty awesome.
It only took us a little longer than twenty minutes to reach Chase’s penthouse, and I spent the whole ride staring out the window in awe. In all the travels we’d gone on as a family when I was younger, I had never been to Chicago before. It was bigger than I had imagined. Taller. Grander in every way. I was used to the sprawling expanse of the Colorado countryside, so the cityscape was like a brand new world to me.
Upon arriving, Jeremy helped me out and carried my bags into the building, where he handed them, and me, off on the bus boy. I was amazed that Chase’s building was fancy enough to have an entire staff waiting to take care of its residents. Even at the height of my father’s success, we had never been this level of wealthy. Chase lived like a prince right here in the middle of the windy city. I waved goodbye to Jeremy and headed up in the sleek glass elevator, to the very top floor with exclusive rooftop access. Every tiny detail of this place looked like a movie set, like the kind of place James Bond would live. It was truly mindboggling.
When we reached Chase’s floor, the busboy knocked, and Chase came to answer with a huge grin on his face. He pulled me into a tight hug, tipped the busboy, and shut the door behind me. “I cannot even tell you how happy I am to see you, Haley,” he told me.
I couldn’t help but smile back, even though I was so nervous my stomach was in knots.
“I missed you this week,” I confessed.
“I missed you, too. It’s still unbelievable to see you here in my own place. If someone had told me a week ago that I would have the beautiful and enigmatic Haley Simmons standing in my foyer, I would have scoffed. But here you are. More gorgeous than you were when I saw you last. I don’t understand how you do that,” he praised me. I blushed and looked away, unaccustomed to such overflowing kindness.
“Come in, come in. Get comfortable. We’ve got some time to relax before all the hectic activity begins,” he declared, ushering me into the vaulted living room. My jaw dropped as I looked around. This place looked like a modern art museum. Everything was exquisitely styled, spotlessly clean, and it suited Chase to the letter.
“Wow,” I breathed, spinning in a slow circle to look around. “This is unbelievable.”
“Oh, you like it? Sometimes I think it’s too much. My designers went a little crazy with this
space. I did give them free rein, but some of the modern style is a little cold for my taste,” he commented. He walked into the kitchen and came back out with a bottle of wine in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. I laughed.
“Indecision?” I asked.
He shrugged and grinned. “No, just saying you can choose whichever suits your mood better for the moment.”
